


Hair

by CrimzonChyld



Series: Domesticated [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Curtain Fic, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hair, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Kissing, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Rimming, Slash, Swearing, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimzonChyld/pseuds/CrimzonChyld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Domesticated doesn't mean vanilla.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Hair

**Author's Note:**

> **This was written before the birthday fic so Kodak is not in this, I've changed the order accordingly, so even though this was published after the birthday fic, it's number seven and the birthday fic is number eight**   
> **I have first hand experience just so you know.**   
> **I do not own nor am I affiliated with Supernatural, WB, CW, Kripke Enterprises, actors, or other affiliates there of. No profit is being made from this.**

Dean used to think he knew everything about Sam. To be fair, he was mostly right.

That's probably the reason why he didn't think that part would change once they started having sex.

Not that he knew anything about Sam and sex except Sam hardly ever had sex . . . unless he didn't have a soul, then he was a bigger slut then Dean had ever dreamed of being.

Other than that, he assumed that Sam's interests were purely vanilla. Probably hadn't even tried much more than missionary. Damn shame, really.

Dean quickly learned that when it came to sex and Sam, he knew nothing.

It was fun though, exciting to learn this part of his brother. Dean knew Sam's body as well as his own, the scars and marks, where his back knotted up first, the face Sam would make when he was in pain and trying to hide it, those were the things he knew.

Now he was having to relearn Sam, the most sensitive spots of skin, what make him squirm, what made him moan, what made him beg. Dean needed to break him down the his basic components, examine him and put him back together again.

That would take time.

Maybe one day, Dean would stop being surprised at every new thing he learned.

Stop being surprised but hopefully always delighted in what he found.

***S*S*S***

Dean was working on his culinary skills one day. Sam came in from jogging around the neighborhood just as Dean took his latest pie master piece out of the oven, strawberry rhubarb. Sam entered the kitchen just as Dean placed the pie on a wire cooling rack.

Sam wasn't the pie enthusiast Dean was. Honestly, anyone who thought that cake and pie were anything alike . . . seriously? Still, Sam seemed to like attacking Dean's freshly made pies, probably because he was Dean's little brother and it was his job to be a pain in the . . . uh, no, not going there now.

Sam made a beeline for the pastry, "Hey, you made another pie."

"Stay away from the pie, Sammy." Dean blocked his path, "I just took it out, it needs to cool off."

Sam pouted, then his eyes traveled from the pie to Dean and his expression changed. Sam went from sullen to predatory in 0.5 and Dean's body shivered against his will. Sam was already in Dean's personal space and it only took a few steps to have Dean against the counter.

Planting his hands on the counter on either side of Dean, Sam leaned in, his lips almost, just _almost_ brushing against Dean's as he spoke, "How long will that take?"

Dean could smell the salty sweat on his brother's skin and was aware that it shouldn't be a sexy smell, it shouldn't turn him on at all. Then again, shoulds and shouldn'ts were probably overrated.

Dean swallowed hard, trying to concentrate as blood is rapidly draining away from your brain is pretty hard work, "About uh, fif-fifteen . . . twenty minutes . . . somethin' . . ."

"Hhhmmm," Sam breathed, "I wonder," he removed his right hand from the counter and popped the top button of Dean's jean's, "how will we pass the time?"

It was such a cheesy line, worse than porn, and it was another thing that shouldn't have turned Dean on which is why shouldn'ts are _definitely_ overrated.

Dean was saved from having to answer as Sam dropped to his knees and wasted no time in getting Dean's dick out of his pants, stroking the semi-hard member a few times before taking it into his mouth.

As Dean used the counter behind him to brace himself he thought his brother had the most amazing mouth in the world.

Most of the time, that's the only coherent thought he had when Sam was sucking his dick.

Sometimes though, Dean's mind would wander. Which is really fucked up because he doesn't know how he can still think during times like this. Times like now, when Sam was tonguing the underside of his cock, then pulling back to swirl that oh-so-talented-tongue around the head, reaching up to massage Dean's balls, applying just enough pressure . . . Dean would sometimes wonder where his oh-so-straight-brother, learned to suck cock so well.

Then the same realization would hit him, hit him just as hard each and every time. Sam's soul spent over a century in a cage with a fallen angel who was really, really pissed at him and probably really, really happy he finally had some company for once.

Then Dean's stomach would drop and his erection would flag.

"Hey, stay with me," Sam voice floated up to him.

Dean looked down at Sam, his hazel eyes heavy-lidded, pupils lust blown.

"Stay with me, Dean." Sam whispered.

Dean slid his hand into Sam's hair and nodded at him. Dean wasn't going anywhere, he just had to stop thinking and start feeling. Sam worked him back to full hardness as Dean kept himself grounded by stroking his hand through Sam's hair.

Dean was pretty sure he had developed some sort of hair fetish. At least, a Sam's hair fetish anyway.

When Sam was a kid, Dean had to comb Sam's hair and he was always getting Sam's hair out of his eyes when it got too long. Dean didn't know when he stopped touching Sam's hair but he remembered the first time Sam went down on him was when it started again. Since then he had become addicted to running his hand through his brother's hair.

Maybe it was a sensory memory, feeling the silken (of course Sam would have silky hair) locks between his fingers reminding Dean of Sam swallowing him down.

Or maybe it was just comfort. Dean certainly didn't get hard every time he combed through Sam's hair with his fingers. When they were on the couch and Sam put his head in Dean's lap, or when Sam laying top of Dean (Sam somehow knew exactly how to lay without crushing Dean) his head on Dean's chest, or when Dean drew Sam up against him in bed at night, his hand automatically went straight to Sam's hair and Dean felt assuaged and content when he had his hands in Sam's hair.

Sam liked it, Dean could tell. He'd sigh and sometimes practically purr, leaning into Dean's touch. He never said anything though, probably afraid that Dean would stop if he did.

Right now, Dean had to stop stroking Sam's hair because Sam was drawing Dean's cock deeper into his mouth and moaning like a goddamn porn star. Dean was close and he just needed to hold onto something and the back of Sam's head a was a good as anything. He had stopped petting but his fingers were still buried in the chestnut strands.

His orgasm took him by surprise. Sam always splayed his hands on Dean's hips, pressing against them. It kept Dean from thrusting and then Sam could torture Dean by not letting him come until Sam was good and ready for him to.

This time, either Sam misjudged how close Dean was or he was being merciful and granting Dean early release.

Either way, when Sam swallowed Dean down to the root and moaned low in his throat, Dean hips tried to snap forward and he came with a shout, his hand tightening involuntarily in Sam's hair, gripping it hard. If it weren't for the roaring in Dean's ears, he might have heard as Sam continued to moan, even though he usually stopped when Dean came so he could swallow. Though, he did feel the bite of Sam's nails as his brother suddenly gripped his hips hard, the pain heightening the pleasure.

When the haze cleared from Dean's eyes he looked down. Sam was still on his knees, staring up at him with glassy eyes looking dazed.

"C'm'ere," Dean reached down and pulled on Sam's shoulder.

Sam stood, letting Dean pull his head down in a heated kiss. Dean could taste himself mingling with the taste of what was just Sam. When he ran his hand down the length of Sam's chest, intending to return the favor, Sam caught his hand.

Dean drew away with confusion, "What's wrong?"

Sam shook his head, "Nothing . . . It's . . . I already um . . ."

A very fetching shade of pink spread across Sam's cheeks.

"You already came?" Dean asked, surprised and disappointed.

Sam ducked his head, "Sorry."

Dean shook his head with a chuckle, "Never mind, Sammy." He took a hold of Sam's wrist and tugged him out of the kitchen, "We'll just call it round one." Dean smirked over his shoulder at his brother as he pulled Sam down the hall towards the bedroom.

Dean didn't have the ability to think about anything for the rest of the afternoon.

That night, however, while Sam slept, his ear pressed just over Dean's beating heart, arms around Dean's waist (they were so _not_ cuddling and he would shoot anyone who said they were), Dean moved his hand through Sam's hair in a repetitive motion, wondering.

Sam had exceptional control when it came to sex. That's one thing he learned since they stopped doing it just to do it and get it over with because Dean needed it.

Now that they were doing it for pleasure, Dean liked to experiment. He wanted to discover all the things that could make Sam lose his control. What made him beg, what made him whimper, what made him come.

So far, Dean had learned that Sam liked it when Dean left bite marks on the insides of his thighs and right on the spot where his neck and shoulder met. Dean could also get Sam to come just by telling him to, in the right circumstances, Dean didn't even have to touch Sam to get that to happen.

Sam had never gotten off just by blowing Dean. Sure, if Sam was touching himself at the time. Coming in his jeans without any stimulation though, that was unheard of.

Dean could think of only one thing that happened that was different from the other times, he would just have to wait until the right moment to test his theory.

***S*S*S***

Dean had decided long ago that kissing was an art. He did a lot of practicing to get it just right. He was highly adept in the many, many forms of kissing.

Kissing Sam was different from kissing anyone else. It had quickly become one of the things he enjoyed most about being with his brother in this way. In fact, it had to be in the top ten . . . five . . . three, definitely top three things he liked doing with Sam.

It didn't always lead to sex either. Dean could literally spend more than an hour just kissing his brother. Especially like this, when they were sprawled out on the couch together, Sam using Dean as a mattress, the television having become just background noise, Dean's hands in Sam's hair, kissing languidly. It was so easy to get lost in this but Dean reminded himself to focus. Sam was relaxed and comfortable and now was the time to test his theory.

Under the pretense of angling Sam's head, Dean tightened his hold in Sam's hair slightly, making sure that his hand were close to the scalp so Sam would feel it but wouldn't find it painful. Dean felt Sam gasp and then sigh, slowing his kiss, making it deeper, more thorough.

Interesting.

Dean tightened his hold more. Sam whimpered quietly. That was another thing Dean was learning. He needed to know the difference between a whimper of pain and one of pleasure. This one sounded like a mix of both and Dean didn't know what to make of it.

So he moved a hand to the base of Sam's skull and squeezed his hair, giving a slight tug.

That did it.

Sam moaned into Dean's mouth and ground his hips against him.

Dean kept up with little tugs and pulls, nothing overtly obvious, he was just testing the waters now. Soon, Sam was kissing him frantically, his hips setting up a rhythmic motion on Dean's leg, continuing to moan and mewl against Dean's lips.

Finally, Sam managed to drag his mouth away from Dean's. He stared at Dean with dark eyes, full of want and need.

"Dean," Sam whimpered, " _please_."

Oh holy fuck, that had to be the hottest thing Dean had ever heard in his whole life.

He quickly maneuvered Sam to the floor and made short work of their clothes. Dean would have cursed that the lube was all the way down the hall in the bedroom if it weren't for the fact that he quickly remembered he could just use his saliva because the hell with fingers, tongues worked better. Sam certainly seem to agree if his constant moaning was any indication.

By the time Dean finally pushed into his brother, Sam was nearly frantic and Dean wasn't far behind. They both came far quicker than either of them would have liked but Dean was okay with that.

He needed to think of his next plan of action.

***S*S*S***

A week later they were in bed together, Dean had three fingers in Sam who was biting down on his lower lip, grunting and trying to grind down as much as possible. Dean could tell his brother was frustrated, he had insisted after two fingers he was fine but Dean had a plan.

Dean was no stranger to sexual fetishes. He'd had his fair share of experience. Nothing hard-core, some light bondage, some spanking, that time he wore a girl's panties because she asked him to . . . and he liked it.

Dean also had partaken in erotic hair pulling and at this point was thankful more than ever that Sam liked his hair long.

Finally, Dean withdrew his fingers, "Roll over."

Sam frowned up at his brother, "What?"

Dean shoved at Sam's hip, "Roll over, c'mon."

Sam shook his head, "Dean, y'know I don't -"

"Just do it," Dean cut him off. "I wanna try somethin'."

Sam eyed Dean dubiously. Dean knew that Sam liked to face him when they . . . well, what Sam would term "made love", friggin' sensitive little bitch he was.

"Trust me, Sam." Dean just told him quietly.

Sam looked at him for a minute before a tentative smile curved his lips. He obediently rolled to his stomach. He let Dean pull him to knees and followed Dean's instructions to grab the headboard. It would be easier to reach him that way. Dean nudged his legs further apart, getting Sam's ass just where he needed it.

Dean slowly slid his length into his brother. He had to hold tightly to Sam's hips because Sam was groaning and impatiently trying push back onto Dean's cock, trying to get more of him in. Dean smirked to himself, Sam wasn't a pushy bottom, he just got impatient sometimes.

When Dean was fully sheathed inside his brother's tight heat he leaned forward and kissed Sam's shoulder.

"Just relax, Sammy." He whispered, "I'm letting go for a minute but I don't want you to move yet, okay?"

Sam looked over his shoulder, an expression of pure want on his face. Then it turned into a pout as he tried his puppy face on his older brother.

"Deeean." He whined before biting down on his lower lip.

Dean smirked again, "Do what I say, you're gonna like it. Promise."

Sam still looked frustrated but faced forward with a sigh, gripping the headboard hard.

Dean reached up both hand and ran his fingers through Sam's hair. His brother sighed again, more dreamily this time, leaning his head back, his hips making involuntary movement. Dean gathered up as much of Sam's hair as he could in one hand. He leaned forward and kissed the back of Sam's neck. The younger Winchester shivered at the contact.

"Do you trust me, Sammy?" Dean whispered as he put his other hand back on Sam's hip.

"Yeah, Dean." Sam answered quietly and without hesitation.

Dean leaned back slightly into a comfortable position, then slowly started pulling back Sam's head by his hair.

Sam's eyes closed and his mouth fell open. Dean kept pulling until Sam let out a whispered "fuck" and then Dean started to move, still keeping a grip on Sam's hair.

Sam wasn't doing the loud moaning that Dean had grown accustomed too, it wasn't even the soft panting and quiet groans from before they moved here.

Sam was panting, yes, but it was a shaking, harsh panting. Sam's whole body was trembling, he pushed back on Dean's cock, trying to take control. Dean clamped down on Sam's hip hard, reminding him who was in charge here. To his surprise, Sam whimpered and stilled instantly, Sam's muscles contracted around him and he groaned.

Dean started thrusting harder, keeping one hand on Sam's hip, the other still gripping his brother's hair. Sam was making little breathless sounding moans and Dean could see that he was gripping the headboard so tightly, his knuckles where white.

Dean let go of Sam's hair to grip both of his hips, speeding up the tempo. Sam groaned low in his throat, his head dropping forward.

" _Fuck, Dean_ ," Sam shouted and Dean knew he'd hit the right spot inside of his brother, "Fuck, fuck . . ."

Dean started fucking Sam fast and hard. He knew that Sam's dick was being sorely neglected but as always, he had a plan. When he was close to his own release, he reached forward, sliding his hand up through Sam's hair and the base of his skull. Gripping hard, he pulled Sam's head back again. His other hand slid up and gripped Sam's shoulder. Still keeping up his rhythm, he leaned far enough in that his lips brushed against Sam's ear.

"Gonna make you come, little brother." His whispered, "Gonna make you come, just on my cock. So pretty when you come for me, baby. I'm gonna come inside you, gonna fill you up, baby boy."

Sam was making the shaky sounding pants again, "Fuck, Dean," he whimpered, "Please, please, please, Dean, _please_."

That nearly made Dean lose it right then but he held on, licked the shell of Sam's ear and whispered, "Come for me, Sammy."

Sam came right on command with a shout and Dean's name drawn out on what sounded like a sob. His muscles clamped around Dean's member and his rhythm stuttered, with a low groan he shot his load into Sam's tight channel, still managing to keep a grip on Sam's hair and shoulder.

When it was over, he found he had relinquished his hold but he was pressing Sam down on the mattress, his brother having given up his own hold on the headboard.

Dean managed to find just enough energy to roll off of Sam so he could stare and the ceiling, still breathing hard.

"What . . . the fuck . . . was that?" Sam panted next to him.

If Dean had the breath, he would have laughed, instead he managed for force out, "Hair . . . pulling."

After a few minutes passed, Sam said in a quiet voice, "Hair pulling?"

This time, Dean chuckled, looking over, he could only see Sam's eyes, the rest of his face obscured by his arm, he had that little wavy line between his eyes.

"Erotic hair pulling," Dean explained with a smirk. "No big deal, little bro. You just like having your hair pulled while being fucked senseless."

Sam seemed to think about this for a few minutes before moving closer to Dean, throwing his arm around Dean's waist and resting his head on his shoulder once again. It was not cuddling, it was . . . it was . . . well, Dean didn't know what it was but it wasn't cuddling, goddamnit.

"Why?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean with those damn puppy eyes.

Dean almost rolled his own eyes, his ever sensitive little brother was once again looking for reassurance that he wasn't a freak. Well, truthfully, Sam was a freak . . . but so was Dean, at least they were the same brand of freak. None of that type of freak though, had anything to do with bedroom kinks. Dean was an awesome big brother, so he just smiled at his not so vanilla little brother.

"Why the hell not? " He said, "It's not all that weird, y'know. Lots of people are into it."

"Yeah?" Sam asked looking down, then reaching up to fiddle with Dean's amulet.

"Just think about it like this," Dean sighed, starting to run his fingers through Sam's hair soothingly, "at least there's now a valid reason for that mop of yours."

Sam pressed the side of his face against Dean's shoulder and he could feel his little brother's smile against his skin.

It was quiet for a while and Dean had almost drifted off when he heard Sam ask, "We're doing that again, right?"

With a small tug at the hair at the base of Sam's skull Dean whispered, "Fuck, yeah we are."


End file.
